


Medic

by LightBloom



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightBloom/pseuds/LightBloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope wasn't sure what he found the most painful; the number of times he had to heal everyone's wounds or the times he couldn't heal them with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Medic

Hope wasn’t sure what he found the most painful; the number of times he had to heal everyone’s wounds or the times he couldn’t heal them with magic. Not that he couldn’t do it eventually, when he was strong enough, but there had been times when he was still too weak, when his magic wasn’t advanced enough. It hadn’t been that big of a deal on Cocoon, where the shopping was done online and the shipping was immediate; with Lightning’s still working military status, they could order things that would normally cause concern with ease. Even on the airship, they could steal things from the supply rooms and sneak into medic areas to rest and recover. It hadn’t been so difficult then.

They weren’t as lucky on Gran Pulse.

Fang might not have been happy to keep hearing them all dub Pulse as ‘hell on earth’ but she definitely wasn’t kidding when she said it was survival of the fittest down there. The worst of it all wasn’t that they had each other to rely on but that they didn’t have a choice but to rely on each other. One false step and they lost their best sentinel, their best commando or ravager; or in Hope’s case, a medic and a fighter. They couldn’t afford to lose him, and it killed him every time they stepped into the line of fire to take a hit that was meant for him.

There were a number of things that he’d found deathly frightening since his mother’s death during the Purge. Few made it on an equal level as her untimely demise; his first encounter with the behemoths in Gapra Whitewood, Odin, Alexander, facing an enemy with Snow unconscious, and falling out of the airship were the five that he considered some of the most frightening times of his life. It wasn’t until he heard the sickening snap of a bone somewhere nearby that he realized that there were worse things than watching his life flash before his eyes. It wasn’t until he saw Lightning get up from the ground with dirt smeared across her face and a large gash above her eyebrow that he realized how truly awful his job was.

All he did was sit behind them and watch as their skin repaired while they fought, knowing the itch of the repairing cells must be agonizing. He hated watching them fight all day long, while all he did sometimes was stand on the side lines, forced to sit out because he was still too weak.

He could remember the first day they all truly set out together onto the Steppe and encountered beasts he could scarcely imagine. The worst of all his memories was when they went into Mah’habara and fought a ring of Pulsework Soldiers and a Paladrabox. He could still feel the electricity itching through his fingers, the sharp tingling sensation coursing through his very being before he shouted out the spell. He could still remember the moment he realized that the world was upside down and feeling elated as he hovered soundlessly in the air for a moment before gravity did its job and brought him crashing back down. That euphoric moment when despite hearing Vanille and Snow’s shocked cries, he found himself wondering if this was what every creature felt like when they were launched into the air by Fang, Snow, or Light.

That thought was snuffed out however the moment he was smashed into the cavern walls, a nauseating snap echoing through the cave so loudly, he could feel its vibrations before he felt the pain. It wasn’t so much of a scream as it was an abrupt choking noise before his mouth opened in a soundless cry. Vanille was immediately at his side, Snow following shortly as soon as the rest of their party took over the job of ridding the mechanical nuances. He didn’t recall when the battle ended, only that he was wracked with pain up his arm and Vanille was stroking his hair back slowly, blood from her wounds dripping on either side of him as she attempted to soothe him.

He didn’t recall what was happening exactly, mostly muttered phrases and Fang (still being immature, regardless of the situation) whistling suggestively as Lightning pulled out her survival knife and cut his jacket open enough to survey his shoulder. Her frown seemed more serious in his memories, less emotional and more angry than worried. Then again, taking all into consideration, it was Lightning. He remembered the ex-soldier nodding quietly as she stood and took a seat by his arm. Snow taking a seat by his good side and Fang sitting at his feet as she wittingly remarked “You’re never gonna forget this one, I’ll give you that.”

He didn’t understand at that moment, only watching in dazed confusion as Light continued staring at Vanille angrily until the bubbly girl broke down in watery tears. He didn’t understand why she was reaching down, grabbing at the bandana around his neck and untying it. It wasn’t until he realized that she was balling the cloth into his mouth and noticing that Sazh was looking away that it occurred to him that he was at a point where pain would come before the healing. Vanille had taken time into learning more magic while he’d taken the time to learn healing.

In other words, she would not be able to help ease the pain.

He didn’t even have a warning—honestly he didn’t know why he’d even expected one at all from someone like Lightning. Not to say that the woman was cruel, but she wasn’t going to let him panic into hurting himself again either. Just as quickly as his shoulder had snapped out of place, Lightning had it shoved back in; the pain reacted a second after she pressed against the injury and his body cringing and lurching under the agony. Biting down on the obstructing bandana, his head turned from the pain and his legs kicked out instinctively; Fang cursed viciously by his feet.

A soothing sensation began rippling through his arm; Lightning’s magic a faint glow through his hazy vision. Pushing her away with his good arm, Hope groggily sat up, head barely clearing the fog enough to continue curing himself. Fang immediately prodded his sore arm, massaging her cheek with a scowl forming over her features. “Jeeze Hope, did you really have to do that? At least heal me; you gave one helluva kick!”

He ignored her, turning instead to Vanille, ignoring her tears as he mechanically patched her wounds; the bandana already removed and serving as a blood rag. As soon as she was fixed, he turned towards Lightning, who immediately stopped him before he even had the chance to utter the spell. “Hope. Stop—you need to rest.”

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not—Listen Hope, you need to take it easy for a bit—“

“There are some things you just do Light,” he replied easily, casting the healing spell under his breath and watch as the deep cuts and bruises that marred her pale complexion faded away. Shakily, he stood up, casting one final Curasa before taking up his weapon and heading for the cavern. Slowly, the rest of them followed, each muttering their own advice to him as they passed. Snow glanced at him worriedly, offering him a piggy back ride, only to be brushed aside—weakly, albeit. Rolling his eyes, Snow picked the teen up and hoisted him onto his shoulders, ignoring the weakening kicks and hits to his torso.

Slowly, Hope began slumping against the older man’s form. The group was already taking a pit stop at mid-section of the caves. He couldn’t fail again; not now, not ever. He was the medic for now.

But as for the present, he would rest. Vanille seemed to be busy with Fang anyways; the two of them already engrossed in conversation out by a small growing patch of flowers in a clearing. Allowing Snow to lower him onto the warm grass, pressed between a begrudging Lightning and chipper Snow; Sazh was mentioning this to be a bad idea.

For now, he would rest.

A dead medic couldn’t save anyone, just as much as a live one couldn’t do anything if injured.


End file.
